


as long as there are stars above you

by solarsystems



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - Children, Alternative Universe - Parents, Domestic Fluff, Flops trying to work out how to change nappies, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, mentions of Zayn/Niall and Liam/Danielle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarsystems/pseuds/solarsystems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au. harry and louis adopt an ellie.</p><p> <em>“kabo,” ellie says, her small voice rising up from between them like a tiny bird.</em><br/><em>“yes petal, kabo,” harry answers, and she seems to relax at his confirmation, melting deeper into louis’ arms.</em></p><p>aka. two flops trying to work out how to change a nappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as long as there are stars above you

**Author's Note:**

> for amber, for being the cutest little cheerleader. 
> 
> apparently posting a 3k ficlet on this website made me productive and so, written over the course of five days, here's 8k of babies and fluff.

_“you were just a boy on a bed in a room, like a kaleidoscope is a tube full of bits of broken glass._

_but the way i saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew.”_

francesca lia block _wasteland_

- 

harry and louis have a lot of things. they have a small apartment in west village, wedged snug in between bricks and dirty pavements. they have a little kitten named puppy, because louis thought it was hilarious and harry finds everything louis does entertaining (he has the most oceanic smile, that tomlinson). they have space heaters in the winter because body heat and blankets only go that far when it’s below zero. and there’s a lot of love too. there’s morning sex in their sea of sheets, there’s dinner dates at way too fancy restaurants and there’s a letter on the fridge that says “adoption granted”. they make do.  

the thing is, this shouldn’t work. louis worries too much and harry doesn’t worry enough. louis is the messiest person in the western hemisphere, and his husband doesn’t go a day without vacuuming at least one room of the house. but they fit together perfectly, odds and ends smoothing together until they’re harryandlouis, louisandharry.

louis had his deadline just three weeks before they got the letter back from the adoption agency. he had already published two books, one of which had been number two on the new york times best seller list. they make ends meet, and louis takes harry out to expensive dinners once a week, because he can. the last book he finished was an ode to the human body, prose about a lover’s knobby knees, the swell of another’s belly. harry had read it in the sacred place of their home and sucked louis off afterwards, and then fingered him open on their queensized bed, slowly rutting against louis’ milky thigh.

it almost hurts sometimes, how deeply embedded they are in each other’s skin. how harry sinks his teeth into louis’ thigh, how they fuck oh so slowly on the floor of their bedroom.

*

“hand me the garlic, will ’ya?” harry asks, pointing towards the end of the kitchen island. he’s wearing the apron louis gave him last february, the one with “kiss the chef” written on the front. he’s also whisking furiously in a pot of soup, and the garlic is the last touch. there can never be enough garlic in harry’s opinion, and the only time louis will complain is when his husband makes a big affair of kissing right after meals. it’s okay though. harry has a nice mouth, especially when he’s kissing along the jut of louis’ hipbones and pulling louis’ briefs down with his teeth.

as he hands harry the pot of fresh garlic, he drapes himself carefully over harry’s back, planting kisses to the nape of his neck, humming into the skin under the collar of harry’s shirt.

“this time next week, we’ll have our baby. our own child,” words whispered into the sensitive skin behind harry’s ear. he can feel harry hum along to a tune only he can hear, but he stopped adding more shrimp into the pot. when the soup is just slowly pottering along, harry speaks up.

“our ellie,” he drawls, dropping the bowl of shrimp and carefully turning around, facing louis. putting his hand against the side of louis’ face, harry can barely believe his eyes.

there’s this boy in front of him, and it’s like harry can’t believe he’s real. this marvelous little boy with those bright blue eyes and the messy hair is his, just harry’s. he looks like a peter pan, mischievous smile plastered on his face and tufts of hair sticking up in random directions. when he leans in, louis does too.

his lips are a bit chapped from the october air, and the angle is a bit weird, but louis just nudges him towards the refrigerator, presses him in close and smiling against his full lips.

“love you love you love you,” harry whispers, because it’s true. it’s never been more true than in this moment, two boys tucked inside a house that lights them up, keeps them warm. louis slides his hands into harry’s curls, keeps his mouth steady against the laughter that bubbles up from the most inner parts of him. they only manage to break away when harry sees the soup start to boil over the side of the pot, and it’s reluctantly and with a small whimper that he leaves his place tucked between louis and the fridge.

dinner goes as planned, louis had set the table with the nice silverware and they only play footsie underneath the table twice. when their tummies are full and louis has unbuttoned the top button on his trousers, harry scoots closer to the other side of the table, bringing with him their assigned folder with bright pink letters across the front.

“baby ellie, born january 10th 2019. guardians: harry edward styles and louis william tomlinson,” harry reads aloud, finger following along with every letter. he gets that endearing look etched on his face, and louis thinks he has never looked more beautiful.

“we’re legal guardians, lou, can you believe it,” he marvels, his hand subconsciously edging towards louis’ palm turned upwards on the table. as he slowly draws circles in the palm of louis’ hand, he turns the folder open to look at the pictures they took with ellie last time they saw her, just two weeks prior. louis is sat in a big chair, arms holding a smiling toddler and there’s one small white tooth in ellie’s open mouth, and it’s like she’s showing it off through the grainy photograph. harry had insisted on bringing the polaroid as well as their cellphones, so they could instantly plaster this very image on the wall of the nursery, next to the framed pictures of their families, moms and sisters alike.

there’s another one of louis, and a few of harry as well. louis' personal favourite is the one of harry with ellie on his lap, dangling his car keys in front of her face and his hand holding her entire torso. he’d looked shocked when the nurse handed him the child, like he couldn’t believe that this small wonder was theirs to keep. it’s like there’s a forest fire raging in his chest when he looks at the polaroid, travelling along his veins and lighting him up.

“i can’t believe someone left us in charge of something living,” louis giggles and earns a slap up the head from the other man, bottom lip jutting out.

“i’ll have you know, i’m very responsible,” harry huffs, and he looks proper pouting, almost like a small child. crossing his arms and leaning back on his chair, he looks ten years younger. he looks like he did when he and louis met, two lost little boys on their first day of college, both moved in from the uk. louis remembers fondly how it only took them three weeks to snog behind the library wing.

“i need to kiss that pout off your face, mr styles. it’s not a very good look on you,” and then he does.

*

“i can’t do this. harry i can’t,” louis whispers into the darkness of their bedroom. the only lightsource is the moon, shining in through the curtains and casting it's bright glow across the floorboards.

“why did we ever think we could handle a kid? i’m going to drop her or i’m going -” 

“you’ll make the most wonderful papa, lou.” harry’s voice sounds wrecked, the way he only sounds after he lets louis fuck his throat or when they smoke on the fire escape, the sweet smell of the weed they nicked off niall curling around them like a soft blanket. it’s the latter this time, as louis needed to just relax the night before, lips almost bloody from his teeth pulling at them, again and again.

“you don’t know that, haz. i could fuck this kid up and it’ll be all my fault,” the older man exclaims, hands wringing in front of him. he looks so vulnerable like this, like the smallest touch could make him shatter into pieces. when louis starts gulping in air, lungs in a panic, harry rolls over and climbs on top of the smaller boy, thighs closing around louis’ hips. as he leans down to cup louis’ head in his hands, he starts kissing him all over.

he kisses louis’ nose, the crease between his eyebrows until it smooths out, both of his eyelids and he kisses his lips. he could do this blindfolded, handcuffed, anywhere. he was born to do this, to be louis’ lighthouse in the dark, to keep this boy safe from everything that could ever have the potential to hurt him.

“she’ll love you,” he whispers, because it’s true. no one could not love this boy, this peter pan, this boy who refused to grow up when the rest of the world decided he should.

they fall asleep like that, harry’s broad torso cradling around louis’ slender body, and it feels like home.

*

“darlin’, you don’t have to wipe down every surface of the house,” harry suggests to his very frazzled husband. ”she can’t even walk yet,” he adds when louis runs past him with a bottle of disinfectant and a towel to fight the bacteria that’s supposedly infested their whole living room.

“i need it to be perfect,” louis shouts over one shoulder, spraying disinfectant over every flat surface he passes. “it has to be perfect,” he adds in a quieter tone. he starts to rub his towel over the living room table, and it’s not until harry grabs his hand that he realizes he’s been scrubbing the same spot for two minutes. straightening up, louis turns to his husband, and it’s like the worry just melts off him.  
  
“she’s going to be here, and it’ll be perfect. try not to worry, little one.” louis narrows his eyes at the supposedly endearing nickname, but tucks his head under harry’s chin nonetheless.

“jus’ want it to be perfect for her, ‘ya know?” he murmurs into the hollow at the base of harry’s neck, hands tucked under harry’s sweater and rubbing his thumbs along the dimples at the bottom of his spine. and that’s when their door bell goes off.

it’s a blur from then on, as louis shoves the bottle of disinfectant in a random cabinet and harry shuts puppy in their bedroom and they both smooth their jumpers down and try to look as parental as possible. harry turns the doorknob, and there’s claire, and more importantly, a car seat with their daughter all snuggled up and sleeping in it.

she’s wearing a green onesie, a polka dot one that harry and louis had brought over the first time they visited. it had been far too big back then, but it fitz snug around her little belly now, and the small tuft of hair on her head is tucked into a striped hat that tied under her chin. there's some drool coming down her neck, and harry carefully wipes it off with the pad of his thumb, certain not to disturb her slumber.

as they welcome the woman inside, louis grabs harry’s hand and slots their fingers together. a peter pan is nothing without his lost boy, and that is the way.

she carefully sets the seat down on the marble counter top of their kitchen island, and putting a string of blonde hair behind her ear, she turns to the two men standing around the sleeping baby.

“she fell asleep an hour before we left, so she should probably wake up in the next few minutes. she’s a deep sleeper, that’s for sure,” claire motions towards the toddler, who’s deep in sleep with her mouth open in a small o.

“on a different note, is the nursery finished yet? it was, as you might remember, mostly a room filled with paint cans last time i visited.” she adds swiftly, professional look on her face but her eyes give her away, happiness lighting her up.

they both trip over each other to answer her question, and as louis speaks up, there’s a small noise coming from the car seat. harry rushes forward to unbuckle the straps over her chest. his hands shake a bit when he scoops the toddler up into his arms, but the look on his face gives away all the joy lighting him up, the pure happiness flowing through his veins. he holds her closecloseclose and as he wanders off with the child, their daughter, louis answers her question.

“it was finished two weeks ago actually. it’s just down the hall, if you would like to see it,” he says, gesturing towards the inner parts of their apartment. she nods, and when they pass the livingroom, louis swears he hears a deep voice sing the tune of a beach boys song. it’s like the sun has made its home in his heart, like the sunlight can’t stop from spilling out of his fingertips, his ears, his mouth.

they painted the nursery a soft green, because they were both adamant of not pushing her into any sort of gender role. harry had gone on a full rant about the way little girls were made into the things mother's crushed dreams were made of. they both agreed, ellie should be her own person.

the room came out homey, with pictures of all their loved ones up on the wall, because with grandparents and aunts all the way across the atlantic, you have to be creative. zayn had helped them paint the mural, and he swore he would never do anything like this for anyone else. it took them a week and half, and about ten cans of beer each, but when it was finished, it all felt worth it.

one whole wall of the room is painted like neverland, with the ship and the crocodile and a peter pan flying through the clouds with his lost boys. zayn had even added the details of niall, liam, harry, louis and himself to the lost boys, with their own distinct haircuts and colours, and now their daughter would see their whole world like this, like a fairy tale. it felt fitting, somehow.

“it looks great, louis. you’ll make wonderful parents,” claire says, her polished fingernails following a painted cloud on the wall, a bright smile on her face. she had observed the two men for the better part of a year now, and whilst there had been a big setback a few months ago, when a little boy they had signed on for was taken back to his birth mother, they were okay. ellie is their child, and that’s how it’s supposed to be.

there is a small noise coming from the door, and when louis turns around, it feels like staring into the sun. there’s his husband and his daughter, the latter gurgling happily at the toy in harry’s left hand. she’s grasping at the stuffed lion, her pudgy little fingers encircling the tail of it and tugging until harry lets it go.

harry has that look on his face, the one he uses for the most precious little things, like his nephew dylan back in cheshire, or louis, when harry is all blissed out and his husband is mouthing along his inner thigh. it lights louis up like sunlight, and it feels right.

“you seem to be situated well, i think it’s time for me to bid my goodbyes. i’ll come around next thursday, it’s just a routine check up. her things are in the bag, and i put her normal bedtimes on a note in there as well.”

the two men nod, and as they follow her to the door, harry carefully hands louis the baby, and it’s like falling in love all over again. she situates quickly, tugging carefully on the collar of his red sweater and babbling a bit to herself.

when claire has flitted out the door and they can hear the clip clop of her heels take off down the hallway, louis lets out a big breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. with his arms encircling the brown haired baby in his embrace, he turns to harry.

“‘m proud of you,” harry says, leaning against the doorframe and arms folded in front of himself, eyes glinting at louis’ reciprocated smile. “and ‘m proud of us.”

“i am too.” louis answers, readjusting ellie on his hip. “i want to unpack her things,” he adds, gesturing towards the yellow backpack on the floor next to the kitchen island. “so she feels at home and all that.”

“that sounds like a great idea, babe,” harry tells him, bending down swiftly to grab the bag and putting on top of the counter. as he unzips it, an array of toys spill out across the counter and harry’s face lights up when he sees another stuffed lion.

“see, it matches the one we got her!” he exclaims, setting the stuffed animal down next to the backpack. “and here’s her blankie, i know she lik-,” he’s interrupted by a demanding little voice stemming from a very impatient ellie, her little hands making fists and unfurling them, making grabby hands at the lion printed blanket in his hand. 

“‘ya like this, little one? is it your favourite? it’s all yours,” harry says fondly, handing the toddler her blankie, and she immediately latches onto it, holding it close to her. the sight of her smushing her face all over the familiar fabric plants an unforeseen possibility in louis’ mind and the worry crease on his forehead returns in a matter of seconds.

“we should have asked claire what detergent they used in the foster home.” he says in a hushed whisper. “what if she doesn’t like our detergent, she’s going to be all alone in the crib and we smell all weird,” he adds, eyes frantically searching harry’s face for an answer. when the ghost of a smile came across harry’s features, louis narrows his eyes.

*

he was a worrywart at heart, had been from the day they met back at n.y.u. he had been holding a map of the campus in his hand, shoulders curled inwards as multiple people passed him by, seemingly unfazed by the floppy haired boy standing amongst them. 

“hi! you seem a bit lost. i’m harry,” a boy with a heavy british accent that had appeared seemingly from nowhere said, hand coming forward to grasp louis’. that was louis’ first impression of this boy, how his palm curled around louis’ hand and practically engulfed it in his own. it seems fitting now that he looks back on it, how his limb had curled itself around louis’ and never letting go since that cold september day.   
  
“‘m louis, and lost too i think,” louis answered, eyes flitting over the map trying to see some kind of resemblance to the buildings around him.

“hey, you’re british! i’ve been listening to all these americans talk for a week now, and it’s been driving me crazy.” at his exclamation, louis looks up from his map. the boy had curly brown hair, and green eyes, the kind you could drown in. he was wearing a blue blazer and a bow tie, an actual bow tie, to his first day of uni. his smile seemed genuine, and he was pretty enough, a dimple appearing on his cheek when he widened his grin.

“i can’t find B21, and my drama class starts in five minutes, and i’m kind of freaking out,” louis offered, hand coming up to tuck his fringe behind one ear.   
  
“well, my art class is in B19, so i might be able to help you,” the floppy haired boy said, and with that, he swiftly grabbed louis’ hand and tugged him behind his tall body, eyes trained on a building about fifty feet from where they had been stood.

and that’s how louis met harry, and that’s how louis fell a little bit in love.   

*

“i’ll text claire, yeah? and then i’ll run out to the shops as soon as i get an answer back,” harry says swiftly, locking eyes with this frantic little boy and his hand coming up to caress the side of his husband’s face. “it’ll be fine, i promise,” he adds on when louis’ facial expression stays urgent.

with a kiss against louis’ forehead, harry takes out his phone and louis wanders further into the apartment, still holding the babbling toddler in his arms. he opens the door to the nursery, and walks toward the wall with photos of their families, pointing towards specific pictures and introducing his daughter to the family.

“this is grandma jay and your aunts, phoebe, daisy, fizzy and lottie. they’re going to love you, little one. and that’s grandma anne and gemma. she has tattoos just like daddy, and a nose ring. but you have to be at least twenty five until we even have a talk about one of those,” louis says to the toddler, who babbles contently and runs her little fingers across the picture frames, seemingly intrigued by the different wooden materials and the smiling faces in the pictures.

“and that’s uncle liam, and uncle zayn and uncle niall.” louis says, gesturing towards a picture of three men with their arms strewn across each other’s shoulders. the blonde haired one is laughing at something the smaller, scruffy man had said, and the tallest of the bunch, the one with the buzzed hair, is smiling, his eyes all crinkled up at the corners.

“uncle liam is married to a girl called danielle, they’re a bit like papa and daddy. i think you might have a cousin in their house soon, but don’t tell anyone i said that, because it’s top secret information. i had to practically drag it out of him last week and i had to get him pissed in the process.” he says, reminiscing a bit as he thinks back to that specific day the week before.

once louis had a steady stream of red wine coming at liam, one of his oldest friends, had blurted it out _danielle is pregnant_ and promptly burst into tears. thinking back, louis knows it was probably the wine and not much else, but it was distressing nonetheless. 

“wait no, none of that! papa and daddy don’t drink, see. only a little bit, and you’ll have a drink in your little hand when we’re dead, little missus,” he adds when she giggles at him, seemingly entranced by the way his mouth moves when he talks. her little fingers are soft against his skin.

”and zee and ni are in love, exactly like papa and daddy! maybe you’ll have a little cousin there too, but not yet for a while. they’re all preoccupied with each other, i think. besides, you’re here now, and they’ll be busy enough,” he says fondly, eyes just drinking in her presence. this child is all theirs, she’s going to grow up surrounded by people who will love her endlessly, and it’s like his heart has grown three sizes overnight, because a love like this surely couldn’t fit into his chest the way it used to be. 

her eyes are a soft blue, golden flecks of yellow scattered throughout her irises. she blinks up at him, sniffling a bit as she flicks her fingers through his fringe. he can feel the realness of her in his arms, this child, this little moon child, as she rummages around for a bit before settling down, heavy on his forearms. louis kisses the top of her small head when she leans heavily into the crook of his neck, and her hand slides into the front of his shirt, and he assumes his heartbeat is comforting to a small creature like this. she’s drooling a bit, spit bubbles coming down her soft chin and he wipes it off carefully, slowly with the pad of his thumb.

when he finally tears his eyes away from the small wonder in his arms, he shows her pictures of perrie and her girls, jade, leigh-anne and jesy, who are some of their closest friends that live just a few streets from them, another one of all the lads, and one with all their family bunched together, siblings in a big pile with lottie at the very top, eyes bright and faces turned towards the camera.

when he turns towards the other side of the room, and the wall with the mural, he sees harry leaning against the doorframe, eyes bright and the corners of his mouth turned up in a wide grin.

“you’re good with her.”

“i ‘ave four little sisters, ‘member?” louis replies, holding the now sleepy toddler close as she turns her mouth into a perfect little o and smacks her lips, turning her face into his neck. harry takes one step closer, towering over louis and their daughter. he leans in close, murmurs into her hair, “love you, little one. i’m gonna buy you all the detergent you want.”

“ever the romantic, styles,” the shorter man remarks, breath tickling the space behind harry’s ear. as he breathes in and out, harry snakes his arms around the dip of his waist and cradles the toddler between their chests.

“speaking of detergent, i ‘ave to run out to whole foods, because apparently the foster home used some ecological stuff that’s like ten dollars a bottle, and i honestly wouldn’t want anything less for a princess,” harry says in a hushed voice, careful not to disturb the toddler leaning against louis’ neck.

“go, i’ve got this, babe,” louis replies, slowly adjusting ellie on his hip. harry nods, lips pressed to louis’ cheek.

as louis follows his husband to the door, there’s a sleeping little toddler in his arms, her small hands fisted in the material of his cable knit sweater. he kisses harry goodbye, and when the door closes behind him, louis makes his way to the living room sofa. he sinks into the red cushions and tucks his daughter’s small head underneath his chin. her breath comes out in small wisps, the side of her mouth pressed against louis’ chest.

it’s like all the tension has just run off him, now that he has his daughter in his arms and louis is fast asleep within minutes. he dreams of sitting inside the sun, drenched in sunlight and the sound of a toddler giggling is overwhelming as it fills the air, the entire space around him.

harry finds his husband and his daughter passed out on the sofa when he returns home forty five minutes later, a paper bag filled with numerous bottles of detergent (to make sure they don’t run out, he had convinced himself when he was stood in the laundry aisle at whole foods).

he pictures the futures they’re going to have, with mornings in bed, a little girl tucked between her papa and her daddy and their kitten snoring lightly at their feet.

he imagines sitting on the surface of the moon, looking down onto the earth and seeing his little girl, his ellie, running around on her stubby legs, throwing her head back and laughing, laughing, laughing.

he lets them be, but presses a kiss to each of their foreheads before picking up her bag and unpacking the few things she had been given at the foster home, like a few ratty t-shirts and a plastic bib, complete with a cartoon lion.

there was something with that little girl and her lions. louis had always been a lion boy, and maybe that’s why she was already so attached to him, with his scraggly hair and the scruff on his cheeks.

thinking how they would go out and buy her more onesies, more of everything, harry carefully folds the shirts into the chest drawers they had spent over three hours assembling after a trip to ikea. they had wrestled over the instructions but as always, it ended with louis throwing them behind his shoulder and free styling it, which meant they had a bit of a wonky chest of drawers and three screws that didn’t have holes to go in.

it was sufficient though, because louis fucked him on the living room floor afterwards, chest to chest, breathing into each other’s mouths.

the sun is gone by now, and all the light that’s left stems from the chandelier suspended from the ceiling, lighting up their home. harry is stood in the kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder and hands around a kitchen knife, chopping onions to be added to the salmon stew.

“mornin’ babes. food’s ready in about ten minutes,” harry calls out as he hears motion coming from the direction of the living room. as soon as the words are there, suspended in mid air, louis walks around the corner with a delighted ellie in his arms.

his hair is sticking up in all different directions, and it looks a bit like a bored toddler has been putting her fingers through it for half an hour. it’s fitting, his shirt untucked from his trousers and his hair all over. it only makes sense.

“smells delicious, babe,” louis says, words getting lost in harry’s mouth as louis leans in, chapped lips pressed against the side of harry’s mouth.

“you wanna crawl around for a bit, petal? stay in the kitchen, a’right,” louis says, leaning down and setting the toddler down onto the wooden floor. she starts crawling around, small hands scurrying across the lines in the wood, unintelligible words coming out of her mouth. 

“i was thinking of making her some mashed peas, or maybe some corn. have you seen the food processor, love?” louis says to harry’s back, his husband tediously mixing some spices into the salmon stew he’s got pottering on the stove. he starts opening cabinets at random then, careful not to bump his socked feet into the bright eyed toddler on the floor. she’s propped up against harry’s leg now, seemingly content with looking at her fingers and babbling a bit to herself. louis has never felt this kind of brightness in the pit of his stomach, and it’s almost like it’s a new life for them, a life for the three of them.

after a few too many slammed cabinets, he finds the newly purchased food processor in the cleaning cabinet of all places, and he curses to himself at harry’s misplacing skills, as this seemed to happen on a very regular basis. he presses a kiss to the back of his husband’s neck when he passes him though, so there’s really no real anger hiding anywhere.

he puts a random mix of fresh peas and carrots into the processor, making it into a proper mushy consistency for a little princess with only two small baby teeth. 

“does this smell good, little one?” louis inclines, bending down to her level and offering her a spoon of green mush. she opens her mouth willingly, and smacks her lips loudly when she’s finished. seemingly content, she dribbles a bit on her left knuckle to celebrate her father’s cooking skills.

“she likes it, harry!” louis exclaims, looking up at harry with bright eyes. “i do know how to cook something,” he adds with an afterthought. harry had always been the chef in their house, but maybe this was something he could do. he didn’t bother with the details, like how there were literally only two ingredients in this thing. he made it, and ellie hadn’t spat it out. success.  

“good job lou, she looks happy,” harry answers with a smile, and there’s a hand curling around the back of his’ neck and squeezing lightly, fingers lightly scraping at harry’s scalp. he leans into the touch, like a sleepy kitten purring when someone puts their hands on him.

there’s a noise coming from the floor, and when they look down, they meet eyes with a certain toddler, who thought it was a good idea to grab a hold of harry’s leg and start to stand up, wobbly legs almost giving out under her. louis dives down and starts shooting encouragements at her, taking one of her hands in his. 

“i told you our kid would be talented, look at her!” he tells harry, fingers grasping for a hand to hold. harry takes the offered hand, and squeezes it tight. he smiles down at his excitable husband and their daughter, who has taken half a step towards louis before almost falling.

but there’s louis, and he catches her without question. as he holds her close and murmurs _what a good job you did what a good girl you are little one_ , harry brings the bowl of mashed vegetables to the table and comes back for the grown up food still pottering on the stove, humming to himself as he adds the final ingredients.

when he returns to the table carrying the pot, louis is making ellie situated in the high chair. it’s an antique that harry had found in the window of one of his regular vintage shops, and it was perfect for them. her little legs are kicking a bit, making a fuzz of not letting go of louis’ sweater.

“but little one, if you sit down, i’ll sit down right next to you and it’ll be okay,” louis coos at the toddler, and soon enough, she relaxes, and lets him slide her into the seat. he ties a bib around her neck, presses a kiss to her scalp, and eases down into his own chair. seeing harry’s smile from across the table, he catches his husband’s eye.

“love you,” louis says fondly, eyes glinting with adoration and a feeling of home.

“love you more, i’m sure of it,” harry replies, fingers coming forward to hold louis’ hand in his own. louis’ fingers are a bit calloused from playing piano, and harry remembers louis’ voice, words soft and pliant as he sang along to the tune harry recognized as “home” by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros, all those days ago.

it feels like all those things happened a lifetime ago, because neither of them could imagine a day without a bright eyed little girl by their side, in the cradle of their arms, in their hearts.

as he turns to said toddler next to him, who’s looking a bit impatient, louis scoops up a spoon of green mush and says, “here comes the choo choo train!”, offering ellie the not-so-pleasant looking goo, which she accepts with a mouth wide open and a small pat on the back of louis’ hand.

and harry thinks this is what the lost boy in his chest has been looking for, all these years. a bright eyed girl and his pan.

*

“something’s stinky.”

it’s 7pm, and if this was three weeks ago, louis and harry would be sitting down to eat a carefully prepared dinner, but alas, this is not that day. the two men are sat in their livingroom, a bright eyed toddler on harry’s lap as he’s showing her various pictures of animals, simultaneously making matching sounds.

“i call first diaper!” harry says excitedly, face laced with a wide smile.

“are you seriously excited about shit? what kind of person did i marry?” louis asks, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“you married a perfect husband, in my opinion,” harry replies, tongue sticking out at louis as he stands, toddler on his hip. she has her little hand tucked into his shirt, just like she did with louis earlier. it’s oddly comforting, her fat little hand pressed against the skin of his chest.

after bending down to catch a kiss from his adoring husband, harry carries his daughter into the bedroom and carefully sets her down on the duvet, seeing her gurgle for a while before discovering her foot and playing a bit with her toes. he leaves her to it and cranes his neck around the room to look for the diaper bag.

they’d gone out last week to buy everything they needed, but harry thinks in hindsight that they had gone a bit overboard. they had two dozen pacifiers and even more nappies.

harry wasn’t all that into all the chemicals in regular baby products, and he had spent an entire weekend on the computer, reading up on the “no-poo method” which involved baby wipes made out of olive oil and shampoo made from baking soda and honey. meanwhile, louis had been out shopping, coming home with three huge packs of nappies that were now stuffed in their cleaning cabinet. harry had excitedly showed his husband what he had found, and a step by step guide on how to make moisturizer from different kinds of oils. louis had kissed him and called him silly, making harry gasp into his mouth. the light had been low, louis remembers, and harry had looked so so beautiful arching off the floor, spine wound tight like a metal string.

“look at this, ellie, see this? it’s a nappie, and it’s got lions on it!” harry said, proudly exhibiting the nappie in his hand to his daughter. she giggles a bit in response and flails her arms around, the corners of her mouth turning upwards.   
  
it only took him twenty four minutes to change her diaper, and he’d only had to try twice to get the nappy on her, little legs kicking out and almost whacking him in the face. harry is thinking of it as a success.

returning to the living room where louis is seated with his laptop, harry proudly holds up their daughter, exhibiting her to his husband like a lion cub. she kicks her little legs, and nibbles a bit on harry’s knuckle.

“reenacting the lion king, are we?” louis grins, standing up to step forward, arms looping around harry’s waist. the toddler sandwiched between them looks up, big blue eyes surveying the two men. louis cranes his neck down to press a kiss to her head and she giggles a bit, hand coming up to pat his cheek.

“bobi,” ellie says, hand patting the scruff on louis’ cheek.

“bobi you too, muppet.” louis replies, nuzzling against her palm.

*

“she’s getting cranky, harry, what the hell do i do?” louis whispers, pacing around the room with a grumpy ellie sitting on his hip, swaying back and forth on the soles of his feet as to make her relax. 

“should we just put her to bed? hell, i don’t know, i’ve never -” harry’s deep voice is interrupted by a broken wail from the toddler currently pulling on the blue fabric of louis’ shirt. she’s gulping for air, big crocodile tears running down her cheeks. although louis knows she’s just tired, it feels like a stab in the gut every time she comes back up for air, cries hidden in the soft fabric of his button down.

“i’m putting you to bed, little one,” louis decides, voice a bit unsteady, but he’s gesturing for harry to follow him to the nursery, and harry falls into step behind his frazzled looking husband, hand coming up to rub at the sensitive skin at the bottom of his spine.

“it’s okay petal, we’ll be here when you wake up in the morning, don’t worry little one,” louis singsongs against the side of her head, lips just brushing against her hair. she settles a bit, head craned to look at the other man, little fingers reaching out to keep his much bigger digit close to her. harry responds instantly, reaching forward to let her dribble a bit on his hand.

“kabo,” ellie says, her small voice rising up from between them like a tiny bird.

“yes petal, kabo,” harry answers, and she seems to relax at his confirmation, melting deeper into louis’ arms.

*

“babe, she sounds so lonely in there, all alone in the dark,” louis whispers into the hollow of harry’s throat as they’re stood outside ellie’s room, her soft whimpers creeping out from underneath the wooden door. “can’t she just sleep with us, just tonight? it’s her first night here, it’ll be good for her,” he adds, voice urgent.

harry feels the same way louis does, that’s his daughter in there and he never wants her to feel left alone. he knows she’s just crying because she’s a goddamn baby, that’s what they do. they sleep and poop and eat and then they do it all over again. but her whimpers have a way of getting under his skin. 

“it’ll be fine, right? just one night,” he says, untangling himself from his husband and slowly opening the door. there’s a swollen eyed toddler standing in the crib, her small hands holding onto the side of it and she’s putting one little hand out, reaching towards the curly haired man entering the room.

“hi petal, ‘ya arright? this room does seem awfully big when you’re all alone in here,” harry coos, bending down to scoop up the toddler, slotting her against her hip and feeling her relax against his chest. a small hand comes instantly up to twist a small piece of his locks around her fingers, and she lets out a shaky breath against his neck. she tucks her other hand into the collar of his shirt, nimble fingers trailing over the soft skin there.

louis waits by the door, observing the exchange between the new father and his daughter. his worry seems to melt off him when she stops crying, and he’s leaning against the doorframe when harry reaches him.

“we should head to bed. ‘m tired,” harry says, voice coming out almost slurred as it seems has already went to sleep, or that’s how his mother used to explain the way his voice always dropped at night. there’s a curled up ellie on his arm and a husband tucking his hand into the backpocket of harry’s jeans and even though letting their daughter sleep in their bed should be seen as defeat, the way she curls in on him seems like the biggest victory.

their bedroom isn’t awfully big, but there’s a mantel with pictures of their loved ones. harry has a thing for pictures, has told louis a thousand stories of that one time he captured specific moments on his dslr, or on one of his many polaroids.

as they settle into bed, they make a fuzz over who get’s to sleep with ellie on his chest, but the final choice is harry, seeing as he barely moves around in his sleep. he smiles happily, fondly rearranging ellie on his chest.

as louis turns out the lights and harry gets settled against his pillow, slotting the now sleeping toddler under his chin, there’s a slight meow coming from the bathroom.

“oh no, puppy! we’ve left her all alone in there,” louis says frantically, voice shrill as he rushes to the bathroom door to let the kitten out, her tail swooshing against his leg. she barely acknowledges louis, before hopping up onto the bed and positioning herself against harry’s legs. the soft beige comforter is wrapped around harry’s entire body, and he has a huge smile plastered on his face.

“sorry babe, guess she just likes me better,” harry smirks.

“shuddup.”

getting into bed, louis forgets all about the cat and marvels at the sight of harry and ellie, ellie and harry, in their bed. just a year ago, they had no idea this little thing would come in and just completely throw their lives askew. it’s like everything has shifted, and now nothing else really matters. it makes louis feel full of things that float, almost bursting along the seams with it.

*

there’s a soft cry, a whimper coming from beyond his duvet, and when louis blearily opens his eyes, there’s an impatient toddler snuffling against his arm.

“kaloo, bobi,” ellie whimpers, face pushed into louis’ bicep.

“‘ello petal. are we all awake? a bit impatient, i must say,” he whispers, stretching upwards, feeling his bones crack under the pressure before stepping foot on the wooden floor and reaching down to pick up his daughter. she gives away a very unsteady sigh, before tucking her hand into the collar of his ratty t-shirt and relaxing against his chest.

“ya know, you could sleep for more than two hours at a time, little lady,” he says, kissing the side of her head. “lucky i woke up, because your daddy in there is impossible to wake when he’s passed out like that,” he adds. ellie responds with dribbling a bit on his neck, and he takes it as a _okay papa also i am hungry can i have some fruit please and maybe a fresh nappy_ thank you and he presses his lips against the downy crown of her head.   
  
“of course petal, anything for you, yeah? but we have to be really quiet, or your dad is going to be all grumpy later.”

he carries her into the kitchen, turning the lights on as he goes and rounding the kitchen island. propping his daughter up in the high chair that harry had dragged in from the dining room the night before, he pats her chubby cheek before turning around and searching through the fridge for something fit for a toddler. 

“would you like an apple before we change your nappy, petal?”

“baba!” ellie agrees, smacking her little lips and banging her feet against the wood of her high chair, arms outstretched towards her father.

"i’m taking that as a yes, little lady, one apple coming right up.”

letting ellie nibble on a few pieces of fruit, using her only two front teeth, louis gets the kettle going, pottering around for a bit in the kitchen before picking up his daughter to change her slightly wet nappy.

it’s just before 6am, and the soft fall light is just beginning to stream in through the windows, bathing louis and ellie in blue. there’s a stuffed lion toy on the floor in front of louis’ feet when he turns the corner to the living room and he bends down to pick it up, offering it to the toddler in his arms.

“you do like your lions, don’t you petal?”

ellie clutches the toy tight, nimble fingers dragging through the artificial fur. she still keeps her face pressed against the side of louis’ neck though, wisps of breath tickling against the soft hairs at the base of louis’ chin. 

softly putting the toddler down onto the blanket he spread out on the couch, louis extracitates a nappy from the pack they put next to the sofa and sits down to help her. he kisses the soft underside of her feet, laughing when she kicks her little legs, pedalling them like she’s riding a bicycle.

“that’s right, petal! you have to practice for walking, uh?”

there’s a creak in the floor, heavy steps coming from the kitchen. louis looks up when harry comes through the doorway, his eyes only leaving the toddler in fornt of him when harry stretches, t-shirt coming up and exposing the soft part of his belly. there's a drowsy kitten sneaking behind harry, tail wagging around his legs.

“‘ello,” harry says, voice raspy from sleep and his hand coming up to scratch against his belly. he’s wearing a pair of blue boxers and one of louis’ old ratty t-shirts from college, and it’s just the side of too small, fabric stretching across his shoulders. the tired light floods in through the windows, and it’s like he’s covered in brightness, in light. and perhaps that’s what ellie has brought to them, a brightness.

they’re going to be alright. louis might worry too much and harry might not know all the right ways to put a toddler to sleep, but there’s a calmness in louis’ bones and a bright eyed girl laying on the couch in front of him, and things are going to be alright.

 


End file.
